


I'm Glad You Didn't Mute My Call

by xphantomhive



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Brown Eyes, Hurt/Comfort, I gave Phone Guy features, Night 4, Platonic/Friendship Mike & Phone Guy, blonde hair, yeah i don't even know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xphantomhive/pseuds/xphantomhive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, do me a favor — maybe sometime, um, you could check inside those suits in the back room — try to hold out until someone checks, maybe it won't be so bad.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Glad You Didn't Mute My Call

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what exactly I'm doing, but I really like this idea. So, I decided to write it down.
> 
> Isn't that title atrocious? Yeah, sorry.

Towards the end of his first week at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, Phone Guy begins to irritate Mike emmensely. He isn't sure why — it isn't like the man had done anything personal to him; in fact, he'd left the messages to keep the fellow guard out of harm's way. Maybe it's the tone he always speaks in, that goddamned cheery tone, like this job is all sunshine and roses. By the fourth night, Mike decides he'll simply mute the call.

But he doesn't.

There's a noise in the background, one of familiarity — Foxy banging on the door. Phone Guy's voice is shaky, unlike his flat but cheery tone in the first three messages. As much as Mike would love to push the button and shut him up, he can't. It sounds like he may be in real danger; moans of either Chica or Bonnie, Freddy's music box, Foxy slamming on the door.

_“Hey, do me a favor — maybe sometime, um, you could check inside those suits in the back room — try to hold out until someone checks, maybe it won't be so bad.”_

Mike knows the room he means. Bonnie likes to stand there, sometimes move to stare into the camera as though he knows a security guard is watching him. Maybe, he does. After all, the animatronics are eerily self-aware. So, Mike decides he will power through the night (and hopefully survive) and in the morning, he'll go check the back room.

What had Phone Guy been rambling on about, anyway? Holding out until someone checks, reassurances that maybe “it” won't be so bad. Mike can only hope and pray he doesn't mean being stuffed into a suit, because if he does, he's surely died by now. Those calls were recorded weeks before, and without proper nourishment, Phone Guy would never make it.

The night is no walk in the park, and by five fifty-five Mike's down to ten percent. And for some odd, idiotic reason, the battery is dropping a percent each second. It is still the same time when his power completely runs out, the power shuts off and so does the tablet in his lap. Freddy's footsteps become audible, and Mike goes limp.

And then, Freddy's song floats through the office. Much to Mike's distaste, he had decided tonight was the night for the short version — of course. Heavy footsteps pad towards him in the dark, slow and menacing. As Freddy takes the final step, chimes ring over the loudspeakers accompanied by the noise of children cheering; the lights flicker on. When Mike opens his eyes, Freddy is gone. He doesn't instantly leave the office, rather opts for sitting in the chair to catch his breath for a bit, as well as allow the animatronics to return to their normal positions. Mike counts off to sixty in his head, same as each morning, and when he's ticked off each number in his head he stands.

Each of them are back in their places, Freddy, Chica, and Bonnie on stage and Foxy's curtains drawn tight. Mike flips them off as he passes, savoring the fact that they can't do a damn thing because he'd survived the whole night. Mike would stay there and harass the robots until the Pizzeria's official opening at eight, but he's more bent on finding the back room. He'd only ever seen it in the cameras, so he isn't exactly certain where it is.

He finds it with fair ease, following the map he can view on the cameras. The array of spare parts have chills running up his spine, waves of unease washing over him. Despite that, everything seems normal — until Mike hears a voice whisper, _“please, help me.”_

“Hello?” He calls, and suddenly this feels like a horror movie. Instead of him getting murdered, however, he gets a loud moan of pain in return. Mike tracks it to one of the spare suits, a Freddy Fazbear one he's able to see on the camera — effectively scares him every time. “Are you okay?”

Though it is merely common courtesy to ask a question such as that, Mike realizes afterwards just how moronic it sounds. Of course the person isn't okay — otherwise, they wouldn't be weakly calling for help and moaning painfully. Whoever it is needs to be removed from the suit, and fast. Luckily, the head of the suit can be lifted off. Mike pulls it by the ears, and it gives out easily.

Inside the suit is who he can only assume to be Phone Guy — his blonde hair is streaked with crimson, sticking to his pale forehead. Even though the suit he'd been stuffed in has less wires than others, it still has enough that a large, bleeding gash reaches from his eyebrow to his chin. His face is covered in other, much less serious cuts; some of them have scabs, some dried blood, and some are fresh. Phone Guy has bruises on his arms, accompanied by cuts. His uniform is in tatters, and the suit reeks of piss. “Hey, can you open your eyes?” A head shake. Mike sighs, walks off to find the kitchen so he can cut it open with a knife, and comes back with the sharpest one he could find in the wide selection.

“I'm going to cut you out, okay? It's the only way.” Again, he receives nothing more than a head shake in return. When Mike cuts the suit, Phone Guy begins to whimper, which slowly turns to sobs. Sympathy spikes in his chest, but he can't help with the pain — the only way to get him out is to use roughness. Finally, _finally_ , Mike gets the suit open enough to help Phone Guy from it. He can't even stand on his own two feet, leaning completely on Mike for support. It's seven when both of them get back to the office, and Mike helps Phone Guy into the chair carefully. His legs are cut and bleeding, same as his face and arms.

“Do you want some water?” Again, Phone Guy can do nothing but nod. Mike finds a vending machine and buys a bottle of water, opening it before he steps foot into the office. Phone Guy finishes off the entire bottle in about one minute, which isn't surprising. After all, it's highly likely he hasn't had any kind of nourishment for weeks. “I'll call an ambulance, if you want one.”

He talks, now. His voice is scratchy and he coughs mid-way through, but it's expected. “Yeah, it'd be appreciated,” It doesn't really sound like Phone Guy, no cheery tone or empty reassurances, at times compliments. “Thank you for listening, for checking the back room. I thought for sure I was going to die — I remember some employees before me never listened to the phone calls.”

Guiltily, Mike admits, “I was going to mute your call.”

Phone Guy has opened his eyes, now. They're bloodshot, a deep brown. “Why didn't you?“

“I heard Foxy,” Mike scratches the back of his head. “Banging on the door.”

Weakly, Phone Guy flashes him a smile. “I didn't think you'd hear all of that over the phone, but I'm glad you did. Thank you. Seriously.”

Mike smiles in return. “No problem.”

**Author's Note:**

> I doubt this will get much of a reaction, but, y'know — why the hell not? XD


End file.
